


i miss you (i'll erase you)

by fourteentimes



Series: in the previous life and maybe the next too [1]
Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Eichi Is A Magnificent Bastard, M/M, More tags to be added, Mutual Pining, Pining, Rough Sex, Somnophilia, Unhealthy Relationships, fine!Leo AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22329982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourteentimes/pseuds/fourteentimes
Summary: “I want you to write music for fine.”“That’s funny,” Leo says. “I thought you just said you wanted me to write music for fine.”(or: Leo joins fine as a ghostwriter and shit hits a fan)
Relationships: Tenshouin Eichi/Tsukinaga Leo, past Sena Izumi/Tsukinaga Leo
Series: in the previous life and maybe the next too [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607329
Comments: 23
Kudos: 69





	1. please stay there a little longer

**Author's Note:**

> hi welcome to my eileo vomit fic where nothing is chronological and the points don't matter. will be updated when i get bored of writing other things. there's approximately an 80% chance that this will be endgame eileo (maybe??? i'll do a bonus izuleo ending eventually???) 
> 
> fic title & chapter title are from "spring day" by BTS.

He should be listening, but all Leo can hear is static. 

He blinks blearily. The door frame is the only thing keeping him upright. He feels--there’s some fancy word he’s looking for, that someone ( _‘Sena, Sena, Sena,’_ he can hear through the static) would know, but he can’t think past the static. 

Messy. He’ll settle there. He feels messy. 

He feels like he was slapped together in the worst way: hair greasy and tangled, clothes pulled on from whatever was closest, hands stained with ink that he can’t bring himself to rub away. 

“So?” 

The blond guy in front of him as a nice smile. His hair is too white and too fluffy, and his face is too skin and he looks too pale. He looks like something that walked out of a grave, except a skeleton could never have eyes as pretty and blue as his, even if they’re not the prettiest Leo’s seen ( _Sena, Sena, Sena--_ ). Leo knows him--should know him. There’s a name on the tip of his tongue; he can almost hear it through the haze in his brain. 

He thinks--

He thinks this guy shouldn’t be looking at Leo like that. 

“So what?” Leo asks. His voice is scratchy and rough with disuse. Apparently yelling at yourself for weeks and weeks will do that to you. 

The blond guy sighs, but that pleasant smile of his doesn’t waver. Maybe it’s painted on. “Can I come in?” 

Can he? Leo looks back over his shoulder. His room is a cave; he’d closed the curtains a week into his isolation. There’s sheets of papers everywhere, and those are only the ones he can stand. Hundreds more crumpled or ripped into pieces or burned. He thinks he remembers burning something. The bed is untouched, but only because Leo doesn’t know when he last slept in it. 

Is it morning? 

Is that why this blond angel is here? 

Fuck, did he die? Maybe he forgot to eat again. 

Leo doesn’t think he answers. He steps back behind his door and peers out from behind it as the blond guy ( _Tenshi_ , something in the back of his head supplies, and it’s frankly better than any other name he’s got; _Blockhead_ seems kind of mean) doesn’t even give a single shit about the papers on the ground. 

Yeah. Yeah that’s probably for the best. Leo doesn’t give a single shit about them either. 

(Trash. It’s all trash.) 

(It’s all the remnants of his soul ripped out and bared uselessly on paper because no one could ever want them. And then, once that fount of abhorrent things finally ran dry, he scribbled. Madness and rage and pain and sadness, until he wasn’t even sure what he was mourning anymore.)

( _Sena, Sena, Sena_.) 

Except Tenshi has some in his hands. And then he has more in his hands. And more after that, until it finally, _finally_ cuts through all the dumb static in his head that _Tenshi is reading his scores_. 

“Hey.” Tenshi picks up another. Leo raises his voice. “Hey!” 

“These are pretty terrible, Tsukinaga-kun,” Tenshi says. His tone is bright. He has that weird, polite smile on his face. He tosses Leo’s music aside like the garbage it is.

Is Tenshi supposed to be nice right now? 

Why does Leo kind of want to punch him for it? 

“I tried to warn you.” Why is Leo making excuses for it? It’s trash. He’s burned it before. It makes him scream just to see the notes on the ground, staring in his face, _mocking_ him like this. As though they really deserve to be written down instead of trapped rattling around in his head (where at least they might fill the _incessant static_ with something). 

(That’s a lie. It’d just get lost, like everything else.) 

(He misses his music like a limb, like a raw, festering wound he never got fixed.) 

(He misses his music because he knows he’s never been whole since. And even if he found it, there’d still be something missing.) 

(He doesn’t know how to soothe the ache.) 

( _Go away, go away, go away._ )

(It stays, ink on his heart, scar on his soul, his incompetence etched for eternity.) 

(Or until he dies. Whichever comes first.) 

“Tsukinaga-kun?” Tenshi looks worried. 

Was he talking out loud? 

Is he supposed to say something? 

(The one thing he is very certain right now is that Tsukinaga-kun is supposed to be _him_. The name fits weirdly, like a lumpy sweater. He doesn’t like it much.) 

“What, what, what? Why are you _here_?” Leo kicks at the papers on the ground. It’s what they deserve. They don’t go flying up like he wanted them to, though. 

How unsatisfying. 

“You still only listen when you want.” Tenshi sighs. He drops (elegantly, tiredly) onto the bed. He folds his hands primly one over the other. “I want you to write music for fine.” 

“That’s funny,” Leo says. “I thought you just said you wanted me to write music for fine.”

Tenshi looks less amused by this. “Was I unclear? I’ve asked you a few times now, I’m quite serious about this, Tsukinaga-kun.” 

“Can you not call me that?” Leo paces. He kicks papers out of the way until there’s finally a little path he can walk. His legs hate it. He really hasn’t eaten in at least a day. No, two. “I don’t like it. Call me something else.” 

“Leo-kun?” 

Leo tenses. The static is turned up full force ( _SENA, SENA, SENA_ ) thudding loud, too loud, too fucking _loud_ in his head, because Tenshi’s not allowed to call him that. No one calls him that, he’s not that, he’s not that, _he’s not that--_

“Shut the hell up,” Leo thinks he says. 

“Shut the actual fuck up,” he might also say. 

Actually, he doesn’t think he says either of those. There’s a sound like a whale dying in despair. 

That’s probably him. 

“Tsukinaga-kun, please.” Tenshi massages his forehead. Some part of Leo is fairly pleased by this result. “I’ll stick with Tsukinaga-kun. Please do not make that sound again.” 

“Fine.” 

“Good. Write for me, Tsukinaga-kun.” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” Tenshi tilts his head. “I’ll pay you? Anything you want.”

Do the piles of papers not speak for themselves? What about the ink stains on his hands from all the times he’s tried so, _so_ hard to put pen to paper? Leo wants to shove Tenshi’s face in all of it and tell him to take a good fucking look at what his “music” amounts to these days. 

“I can’t.” Leo scoops up a page. The discordant chord on the page slams through the static, a jarring, hateful sound that fills him with a physical revulsion. He wants to throw up just looking at it, hearing it. 

He settles for ripping it up into the tiniest pieces he can, but even that’s not enough when it’s ringing, ringing, ringing in his ears. 

“Not any of this, of course,” Tenshi says, like it’s easy to cast all this aside and write something new. It is, really. Leo’s done it loads of times. (The end result is the same.) But Tenshi throws the sheaf he has onto the ground. He pauses a moment, looking at the others on the bed for only a moment before they’re dumped just as unceremoniously too. “Or those. But I still like your music, Tsukinaga-kun.” 

“That makes one of us,” Leo grumbles, folding his arms as he plops down on the ground. He picks up another sheet and starts shredding this one into little strips. It’s better than his fingers itching to compose again. 

(Even though he hates it. He hates it so much, destroying his work like this. Even though he wants to cry every time he rips another note away that he painstakingly birthed into the world, it’s still better than someone else having to listen to it.) 

“I’d hate for this,” Tenshi sweeps a hand around to the mess, the mountains, of works Leo’s left unfinished, “to be the last thing you write. Write for fine. Write for me.” Tenshi rifles through his bag (when did he have a bag? Did he always have a bag?) and pulls out new, clean pages of sheet music. 

When he holds them out to Leo, they smell kind of like alcohol wipes. 

“You’re going to be disappointed,” Leo says. 

It’s not a yes. 

It’s not a no. 

Tenshi shrugs. “I think I’m pretty used to that by now.” 

“You’re going to hate all of it.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever hated anything you’ve written, although I suppose I don’t like this stuff much.” 

“You’re barely going to get music.” 

“I think that’s a fairly harsh assessment of your abilities, Tsukinaga-kun.” 

Leo stares at the sheet music. Tenshi stares at him.

Leo doesn’t take the papers. “Why are you doing this?”

“I like your music. I like what you write. I want more of it.” Tenshi smiles. “I want it written for me.” 

There’s nothing left in Leo. There’s static in his head where there used to be music. There’s an emptiness that fills him, leaving him hurting and wanting. He hollowed himself out writing weapon after weapon for Knights, and then dragged out more after that. 

All of that, all that he was, it was only for Sena. 

( _Sena, Sena, Sena_ , the static beats into him like his pulse.) 

“I just want whatever will make your genius shine again.” And the thing is, Tenshi looks like he _absolutely means it_. His eyes shine as he holds out his papers to Leo one more time. “I want Tsukinaga-kun to shine.” 

“And what if I can’t? I tried. I failed.” Leo feels paper crumple under his hands. He doesn’t even remember writing these. “If you’re chasing ghosts and has-beens?” 

Tenshi sighs. “Then at least I tried. The last thing I want is for your genius to languish here. So please. One last time. Write for me?” 

There’s still static in his head, but maybe for the first time, he can almost hear something through it. 

“Okay.”


	2. don't waste your time on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just this once.” 
> 
> “You promised.” 
> 
> “I know.” 
> 
> “You _promised_.”

“Just this once.” 

“You promised.” 

“I know.” 

“You  _ promised. _ ”

Leo paces backstage. Pacing is good. Pacing helps him go as fast as his thoughts. He catches things more when he paces, errant thoughts that might have strayed too far that he would never be able to get ahold of, or runaway thoughts that want to go somewhere far from the point he started. 

He’s been doing it a lot more, ever since Eichi decided to be a nosy piece of shit and shove himself into Leo’s business. 

“You said I would never have to get on a stage again,” Leo says. Pacing is good. Just keep going. Because pacing keeps him from wanting to rip himself out of his skin and scream at the sky. “You said that I could just write. I’ve written. I’ve been writing!” Wrote and wrote and wrote because everything he tried to put to paper was wrong, wrong,  _ wrong _ . “Why are you asking me?” 

“Tsukinaga-kun--” 

“Don’t!” Is he shouting? He might be shouting now. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t  _ know _ . Something loud and horrible builds in his head, chords smashing and crashing together. This has to be a punishment. The strangled feeling in his stomach that makes him want to throw up certainly lends credence to that. 

(Sena, always dutifully in his head, snorts.  _ That's a big word for you, Leo-kun, did you cheat? _ )

(Shut up, shut up, shut up--)

"Tsukinaga-kun."

( _ Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP-- _ )

"Leo-kun."

( _ shutup, shutupshutupshutup-- _ )

"Leo!"

Leo’s eyes snap open. 

Eichi stares back at him, and Leo doesn’t know what that makes him feel even more like he’s drowning. His heartbeat pounds in his ears like waves beating on a shore, and every breath he takes feels like it’s rattling his lungs loose in his chest. 

Something. There’s something on his face. There’s something cradling his face, something in his hair. 

Hands. Palms against his cheeks. Fingers in his hair. 

Leo inhales sharply. Holds it. 

“You’re holding my face.” Eichi doesn’t move an inch. For someone who’s in and out of the hospital as often as he is, his grip is sure. And soft. “And you said my name.” 

Eichi watches his face like he’s looking for something. Leo stares back. What he’s looking for ( _ who _ , his thoughts remind him) ( _ senasenasena _ ) isn’t in Eichi’s even gaze. Looking away from him means defeat, though. 

“Of course I did.” Eichi sighs, and Leo thinks he  _ must _ be imagining the thumb brushing his bangs back. “I had to.” 

“No you didn’t.” 

“You weren’t listening.” Eichi talks down to him again, like a parent patiently explaining something to a child. Leo grits his teeth. His hands fly up. His nails dig into Eichi’s soft, soft hands. To his credit, he doesn’t even flinch. “I had to.” 

“No.” Leo’s head is going too fast. His thoughts are careening out of control. He doesn’t know where they’re going. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. “No, you didn’t. You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to do any of this! You were there. You saw the whole thing from that throne of yours, didn’t you, Emperor? You watched the slaughter and the sacrifice, and you’re still asking me to throw myself back out there to die on your sword again.” His chest heaves. He feels lightheaded. He might be sick. The only thing left grounding him is the solid, sure, too-tight grip he has on Eichi. “Why are you still asking me to do this? Why?” 

“You’re the only one I can trust.” 

Eichi looks too serious when he says that. That  _ Leo _ is someone who can be trusted. As though he isn’t just a tool, a sword, too rusted to be of any real use. 

“I know I call you Blockhead, but even you can’t be that stupid!” He laughs. Because that’s the only answer to this, right? That this is a joke of some kind. So he laughs, loud and mean and spiteful (and hates, just a little, that he feels like this at all). “What’s the point in trusting me? Why not Keito? Or those other guys you dragged behind you in fine? Oba-chan, I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to help you.” 

“I’m not asking them,” Eichi says. His voice is tight. If Leo were a worse person, he’d needle Eichi about why the corners of his mouth turn down and why the look in his eyes goes far away and glacial. “I’m asking you.” 

“You’re making a mistake.”  _ I’m the mistake _ .

“I’m not.”  _ I don’t care _ .

“You know that you are.” He’s not panicking. He’s not panicking because these are facts. “I haven’t been on a stage in weeks. I don’t know your music, and I don’t know your choreo. I can’t even do the one thing you asked me to do. All the music I’ve written for you is garbage so far! You’re still asking me to go up there and represent  _ your _ fine, and you still don’t think this is a mistake?” 

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts like knives to the chest to say it out loud, to admit the weakness that he’d tried and tried and tried to keep out of site from everyone else so that maybe it wouldn’t reach them. 

“I know,” Eichi says softly. Leo makes a noise like a wounded animal, but he still keeps going. “I thought we were the same, once. I thought I understood you because we were coming from the same place, but you just wanted to make your peace with everyone, and that was all. You were happy with that.” Leo shakes his head, moves to refute him on instinct, even though he’s right, he’s right because he’s Eichi and he’s always fucking right, but he’s cut off. “But you can’t be happy like this, alone, adrift, friendless. No one’s made happy with you like this.”

“You moved me how you pleased once. And I let you.” If Leo closes his eyes, he can see it. Backed into a corner like an animal, lashing out at Eichi when he remembered his role in everything. “Why not now?” 

Eichi’s hand is gentle as it cups his cheek, and Leo--brazenly, bizarrely--wonders why he has to be so above everything that he’s not just hitting Leo for spouting shit. “I want the reason you say yes to be because you want to be there.” 

“What if I didn’t want to?” Even saying that is admitting defeat already. 

“Maybe I would’ve begged. Wouldn’t that have been a sight? The Emperor on his knees for you?” Eichi smiles his pleasant little smile, and it’s like Leo’s outburst never even happened. “I’m sure you’d like that.” 

“What if I want something anyways?” If he’s allowed to be selfish, just this once. If he’s allowed to remember what it was like to show every rotting thing inside him and that Eichi saw it all and didn’t care. “What would you do?” 

Stupid bastard smile. Leo hates the way Eichi hides behind it. “Depends on what it is, Ou-sama.” He toys with a lock of Leo’s hair, and his smile just widens when Leo shivers. 

“Call me Leo.” Remind him of what it means to just be disappointingly human. He doesn’t need to be a king anymore. “Just Leo.” 

Why does his heart race when he says it? Why does it feel like he’s counting the seconds, holding his breath until Eichi answers? Why is he watching his face for signs that it’s okay, that Eichi will do it, that for maybe one moment, he won’t have to be someone else’s expectations? Eichi doesn’t shutter, but he goes quiet. Thoughtful. 

“All right,” he says finally, simply. As though he hasn’t made Leo what wait feels like hours. “Leo, will you perform with fine?” 

“Just this once, yes.”

(Why does it feel like a weight lifting off his chest when he agrees?) 


	3. city's cold and empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. looks into the void. i've tried writing smut before, but this is the first time i've gotten to the dicks so.

Sena looked radiant. 

Well. 

Sena always looks radiant. 

But especially so, under lights that were too hot, in clothes that felt too wrong, in front of a crowd that felt too large. 

He’s beautiful. 

(He always was.) 

( _ senasenasena _ , his heart beats along to him,  _ senasenasenasena-- _ )

“Well?” 

“Well what?” Leo snaps, tugging too roughly on his stupid neck ruffle ( _ cravat _ , Eichi had told him before the show, doing it up for him with careful fingers). The fabric may be expensive, but it bites into his skin all the same as he wrestles it off with a hiss. 

It’s too much. 

(The newbie-- _ Suou Tsukasa _ \--defiant and breathless and burning, burning,  _ burning _ with contempt for Leo. All but spitting his name as Leo threw it all away. Knights. The place Leo lived and breathed and bled for, crushed under in his hands in a matter of minutes.) 

(The hurt, the shock on Ritsu and Arashi’s faces, realising they’d  _ lost _ , that Tsukasa had  _ lost _ , that Knights was  _ lost _ .) 

(Sena.) 

(Sena, Sena, Sena.) 

His chest feels empty, and it’s too much. 

It’s too  _ much _ . 

Too much energy thrumming in his bones, too much clothing when his skin feels like fire, too much, too much, too much--

\-- _ wrong. _

Wrongness, is that it? Is that what makes him feel seasick and weak-limbed? Is that why everything has been going too slow and too fast all at the same time? Is that why he totters over to the trash, barely makes it when his stomach rolls and he vomits what little he was able to get down this morning? 

(Wrong.)

“Leo.” Eichi’s voice is quiet and gentle and stable. Stable in a way Leo hasn’t been in a long, long, long time (ever? Maybe ever?). His hand is a (wrong) (wrong, it’s not  _ senasenasena _ ) weight on his back that rubs circles as he retches again. 

(Wrong.) 

“Water will help,” Eichi says, passing him a bottle already opened for him. “Rinse and spit a few times.” 

He doesn’t say anything about the way Leo’s hand trembles as he accepts the bottle from him. He doesn’t say anything when Leo follows his instructions and spits into the trash. He doesn’t even say anything when Leo hands the water back after only a few, anemic sips. 

(Wrong. It’s wrong. He’s wrong. He’s wrong, and it’s not his fault. It’s not his fault he’s not  _ senasenasena _ .) 

Leo screws his eyes closed. Tight, tight, tight. Tight enough that the pressure builds through his face into his temples. Tight enough that maybe, if he hopes and prays and thinks really, really hard, this will all be a nightmare. A terrible, endless nightmare. 

A nightmare that he deserves, but at least he can wake up, and it’ll be over, and-- 

(Sena, his beautiful, radiant, perfect Sena, looking at him, through him, like he was nothing. Like he wasn’t even there. Like Knights wasn’t shattering around him because of Leo, like he wasn’t ripping apart everything they’d built together, like Leo didn’t even matter. At least if he hated Leo, at least that would mean something. But nothing--) 

( _ senasenasena _ )

“You’ll hurt yourself,” Eichi says past the static. A thumb swipes over his forehead, smoothing out the furrows and the wrinkles and massaging a little right where the pain is building. “I don’t like when you do that.” 

“Saying that doesn’t have the effect you think it does.” Maybe if it were someone else asking him. Maybe if it weren’t Eichi. Eichi, who let Leo make all the wrong choices, who dragged everything, anything out of him and then pushed him over the edge when he saw the chance, who only picked him back up when he thought he could make  _ use _ of him. 

(And yet, Leo’s still here, letting Eichi cage him against the wall. His heart flutters a weak, thready beat in his chest.)

( _ senasena-- _ )

“That’s okay, it doesn’t have to,” Eichi smiles, and it’s a real smile. Not the plastic one he wears for their (Eichi’s--  _ fine’s _ \-- shit--) fans or the calm, calculated one that he wears in front of every other person in school. It’s not a gentle thing, nearing a smirk, a leer, and it makes Leo’s blood go molten in his veins. “I’ll just have to make you stop every time you try something.” 

“Actually, you don’t have to because no one said you did,” Leo’s voice is hoarse the way it is after a live, well-worn and hollow, “but you’re going to do it anyways because you can’t keep your business to yourself.”

Eichi hums. He leans in close, close enough his hair tickles his cheek, and Leo can almost lean up to kiss him. “It does tend to work in my favor, after all.” 

“I didn’t want you here.” 

To bear witness to Leo sending everything he loved and held dear crashing down around him. To see Leo like this, breaking down over his own stupid, stupid, stupid,  _ stupid _ choices. 

“But you needed me here.” Eichi tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear, already coming undone from the sleek, expert ponytail it’d been wrangled into earlier. “I couldn’t leave you alone.” 

“You didn’t mind much before.” The energy and too-large feeling from before starts to simmer down into something--

Something else. Something decidedly hotter, with the way Leo lets Eichi press him back into the wall. 

“Are you really going to still go on about that, Leo?” He can’t help the shiver that runs through him when Eichi says his name, the way his thoughts ( _ sena-- _ ) start to splinter, just a little. “That’s not why you’re like this now, though.” 

“No,” Leo whispers in spite of himself. His fingers flex against the wall, aching to grab hold of--anything. Of Eichi most, he thinks. “No.” 

“I’m still here, Leo,” Eichi says. 

Easy. Simple. No fuss, no frills, just--

(Sena. Sena, who is Leo’s sun and moon and stars, who doesn’t hate him, doesn’t feel a thing for him, doesn’t even see him--) 

“They don’t need me anymore.” The words are dragged from him, carved out of his chest where he thinks his heart might be, because it certainly aches like it. His skin feels too tight. His throat is raw and his eyes feel hot and the next breath he takes might be a sob, but it doesn’t matter because Eichi is kissing him, and for a single moment, everything goes finally, blissfully silent. 

Then the moment fractures, or maybe something in Leo does, shredded apart by the gravity of it all, and he doesn’t even care as he sinks to his knees. His hands are still shaky as he trails them down Eichi’s sides and comes to rest over his hips. 

“Good,” Eichi says, as he runs a hand through Leo’s hair and throws his hair tie off somewhere they won’t find later. His nails scratch against Leo’s scalp, and it’s like heat sent straight down his spine until he’s aching in his slacks. “I don’t think I want to share you.” 

Something about his words--the way he says it or the way Leo’s feeling loose-limbed and dizzy--has Leo clawing at his belt as he leans his head against Eichi’s hands. He only gets Eichi’s pants just open enough to pull his cock out, but that’s all he needs. 

He takes the flushed tip into his mouth and lets the taste of Eichi rest on his tongue--a little bitter and a little salty and more than a little heady--before he takes more. 

This isn’t the first time they’ve done this. This isn’t even the first time Leo’s blown Eichi after a live, rushed and incautious and hopped up on adrenaline and the high of performance. He’s been here, on his knees just like this in front of Eichi, but somehow, this feels different. 

Time feels syrupy and blurry as he tries to swallow inelegantly with the steady, heavy pressure of Eichi’s hand against his head and fingers twisted into his hair.  _ Leo _ feels syrupy and blurry as he works against the pressure of his cock down his throat, against the pleasant burn of Eichi gripping at the strands of his hair before it becomes too far and too much and he’s gagging around him. Drool spills from the sides of his mouth as he tries to--to keep him there and choke on him or get away, he’s not sure--before Eichi finally lets him pull back. 

“Fuck you,” Leo finally wheezes out in between coughing and catching his breath, wiping at the drool that’s gathered on his face. 

Eichi tugs him back sharply, and it’s like a line straight to his cock, twitching in his pants as a harsh reminder that he still hasn’t gotten any relief yet. “You’re beautiful like this,” Eichi’s voice sounds tinny and distant, and Leo can barely make out his face through the haze of tears in his eyes. “Mine, that is.” 

Leo can’t stop the whine that escapes him, finally pressing the heel of his hand to his own neglected cock. Eichi can’t just  _ say _ it like that. Like he intends to keep Leo, broken parts and all. 

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” Eichi says too serenely as he reaches a hand down to rest his thumb against Leo’s lips. 

Good. 

Leo can be good, letting his tongue run over Eichi’s thumb, wetting it as it wrenches his mouth wider before he’s feeding Leo his cock again. And because Leo is good, he’s  _ good _ for Eichi, he doesn’t choke this time and lets his throat relax even as Eichi picks up a brutal pace. The hand in his hair never leaves, even as Eichi comes across his face and kneels to kiss him and finally, finally wraps an elegant hand around Leo’s cock and lets Leo rut against his fingers until he comes all over them. 

“You’re perfect just like this,” Eichi says as Leo licks his fingers clean, and maybe he can almost believe him when he says it this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> know that i wrote the rest of this chapter in 2 hours, and the last 600 words took me the same amount of time.


	4. i can't see clearly when you're gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cool so we're just blowing right into this with the porn. mind the tags, i just updated those.

Leo looks younger when he sleeps. Eichi likes it, he decides, as he smooths the hair back over Leo’s forehead. When he’s awake, there’s a harried, haggard weight of the world that he’s determined to carry no matter the overtures Eichi tries to make to share the burden. It’s in the slump of his shoulders and the dark purple bruises under his eyes and the haunted, dour look in his eyes that Eichi can’t quite chase away. But here, now, there’s none of it. 

This hadn’t been Eichi’s goal. 

But it’s not an unwelcome result, Eichi thinks absently as he traces a careful finger down Leo’s jaw, his neck, where there’s still the litany of marks and bruises. A token of Eichi’s affection for him. When he kisses one near the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, Leo still doesn’t stir. Even when Eichi leaves a few more, lazily tasting the skin that’s so tantalizing laid bare for him. Leo left more than a few of his own and scratches that pull a little and burn in a good way as Eichi kisses his way down Leo’s thin chest. 

Let him rest. Leo is always moving to something and then the next. Energy hums in him, frantic and frenetic, and Eichi doesn’t get to do much more than watch. Wait. See where Leo will land. Help him down when he doesn’t, because his thoughts go jackrabbit quick to the next thing and the next thing until it’s two days later, and he still hasn’t slept yet. 

No, this really hadn’t been Eichi’s goal, but he can enjoy it all the same. 

Leo’s sleep-warm and the skin around his stomach is soft. The breathy sigh he lets out as Eichi bites down on his hip, red and lightly bruised, goes straight to his cock as he hums against his skin. He hadn’t meant to be that rough with Leo earlier, and the thrill those little noises--bitten off moans and whimpers and sobs--sent through him is something he’ll examine later. Maybe with Leo. He certainly seemed to have enjoyed it in the moment. 

They’d messed around before.  _ Before _ before, when Leo’s smile was still charming and open and so was he. When they were young--when he made Eichi feel young instead of teetering on the edge of bigger things. Quick kisses in empty classrooms and warm hands shoved under clothing to map out whatever bare, sweaty skin they could reach. 

He’s not the only one Leo’s kissed like this because Leo’s affections are as fickle as they are sweet. Even Keito, Eichi knows, has had a  _ dalliance _ or two with Leo at the archery range. 

But no one’s going to have him like that again. Eichi smiles against Leo’s hip at the thought, tongue darting out to taste the salt on his skin where his cock is soft. 

And if someone manages to wrest Leo away or maybe when he dies and Leo’s finally set free, they’ll just have to contend with the knowledge that Eichi was there first. That Eichi broke him down and picked up all those scattered pieces and stuck him back together and remade him into  _ this _ . 

_ His _ . 

Eichi lets himself take more, careful to watch his teeth, as his fingers slip down to trace the rim of Leo’s well-used hole. He’s still a little loose from their earlier frenzy in the dressing room and again a little later, when they finally had a bed, and Eichi got to open him on his fingers till he cried. Leo, hair haloed around him, in  _ his _ bed, writhing on  _ his  _ sheets, crying out  _ his _ name, and doesn’t that just send an especially  _ vicious _ sense of satisfaction straight to his cock. The lube is still where he threw it over the side of the bed, and it’s an easy thing to grab and pour over his fingers. One finger goes in easy, so Eichi pushes in another, groaning low as Leo starts to harden and leak in his mouth and the taste hits his tongue. 

There’s another quiet sigh from Leo, something that might trail off almost into a moan if Eichi listens closely. He’s soft and  _ hot _ around his fingers, and maybe Eichi forces a third in too quickly, spurred by the soft noises and hitch in his breath that Leo lets out. He’ll wake if Eichi keeps going like this.

Good. 

Eichi leans back in perverse pleasure, watching Leo’s thin chest heave as he twists his fingers just a little cruelly to rub against that spot in him as the other hand presses his hips down against the mattress to keep him there, like earlier. Eichi can still imagine the flush that colored down his ribs and the angry red of his nipples after Eichi had bitten them. 

“Sena…” 

Something snaps in Eichi’s chest. He doesn’t remember pulling out his fingers or slamming his cock into Leo or digging his nails into his soft, soft hips, but when he comes back to himself, Leo is staring up at him with his wide doe eyes and cherry red mouth that Eichi has to kiss quiet. 

This is his. 

_ His. _

And maybe trying to keep Leo is a foolish thing, like catching lightning in a bottle, but damn if Eichi isn’t going to  _ do it. _

He doesn’t do anything by half. 

“You’re mine,” he breathes out, and his fingers are too tight on Leo’s jaw, but Leo is hot and slick and open because of  _ Eichi _ . 

He’s broken Leo down before, shattered him and sent him away spiraling and fractured. 

He put him back together and shaped him into this. 

He can do it again. 

He can do it as many times as he has to, until it takes, until  _ Leo _ finally understands it too, what Eichi has been trying to teach him this whole time. 

His hips snap against Leo’s, and his lungs burn with the exertion, but Leo doesn’t say a word. He only nods as Eichi wraps a hand around his cock and whispers out a fervent “ _ Yes _ ” as Eichi strokes him too tight and too rough. 

He’s too rough with Leo. He knows that he is, from the way his hand moves from Leo’s jaw to his throat to feel the fluttering pulse under his fingers, from the way he stops just long enough to shove Leo’s leg up to make a space between them, from the way Leo whines as Eichi grips the soft underside of his thigh. 

He can’t stop. 

The pleasure slams through Eichi until he’s heady and drunk on the whimpers that leave Leo’s cherry red mouth as he finally moves his hand away from his throat down to stroke Leo’s cock again. He doesn’t know if he’s hitting the right spot or if Leo’s even enjoying it, but he doesn’t know--

\--he doesn’t know if he  _ cares _ . 

“Tenshi.” 

Leo finally calls for him, and it’s not--

It’s not enough. 

It’s not enough even as Eichi thrusts into him two, three more times and spills inside him, hand working furiously on Leo’s cock until he’s arching under him and coming on his hand again. Leo’s sloppy and slick as Eichi pulls out and pushes the mess and a little of Leo’s own cum back in him. 

He should apologise, he thinks distantly. For what, Eichi isn’t sure, but the thought feels raw and hurt like an exposed nerve. 

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” Leo says quietly. His hand is warm against the cooling sweat on Eichi’s cheek. 

“I’m not letting you go.” Eichi doesn’t recognise how rough his voice sounds. “I’m never letting you go.” 

“Then don’t.” Leo leans up to kiss him slowly before he pushes against Eichi teeth biting and angry like he’s throwing back everything Eichi just gave him, and it pleases the thin, angry thing in Eichi’s chest. 

“I’m keeping you.” 

“Then do it and don’t make me regret it.” 


	5. oh, those summer nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty bella for requesting sorry its short there's more soon(tm)

That summer belongs to Eichi. 

The nights are muggy and short, too hot for anything but bare skin on skin when their legs tangle together. The kisses Eichi presses to his skin are searing hot, a brand Leo might just keep forever. He gives back as good as he gets, raking his nails down the picturesque skin of his back. It's a heady feeling, when he gets to look up and see Eichi gazing down at him like he's the only thing that matters. 

Their days are quieter. Leo still cuts class any chance he gets, and Eichi makes excuses for him. They sit together silently in the student council room more often than not, when the static in Leo's brain feels like it might drown him and swallow him whole. Or they're in fine's practice room together, where Eichi plans their choreography and arrangements and Leo gleefully tells him where he's wrong: who he wrote this line for, what feelings this part is supposed to evoke. 

It was only the one time that Leo stood on a stage with him, with fine, dressed in a white so brilliant it hurt looking at it under the stage lights. The sea of pen lights were like stars in the sky, too many to count and beautiful to behold. 

Something finally woke up after that, and the itch in his fingers--to create, to write, to  _ sing _ \--woke with it. 

But Eichi is true to his word and doesn't look at him again, and Leo wonders if the ground might swallow him whole instead. 

"Leo." His name sounds honey-sweet when Eichi says it, and it makes him ache somewhere deep in his chest. "You're thinking too loud." 

"Am not." Eichi shifts next to him, until he's hooked his chin over his shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist. It's too much, too hot, too close, and Leo still soaks it all in. 

"Tell me about it." 

"Don't wanna." 

"So there  _ is _ something on your mind." Eichi whispers like everything is a secret between them, just the two of them. "Tell me." 

"You don't even ask nicely." 

"Tell me  _ please _ ." 

The silence stretches between them anyways as Leo looks through the gauzy curtains hung over Eichi's curtains. The moon hangs distant in the sky. Eichi's breaths slow against his back, and Leo turns over just to make sure that he's asleep, his face lax and open.

"I want to go back to the stage." 

Eichi doesn't stir, but Leo feels lighter anyways. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can follow my writing twitter [@satiIIquinart](https://twitter.com/satiIIquinart) for updates!


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